Chip Off the Old Block
by YviSalty
Summary: "Project Synthesis was a failure. Return to the base." Or was it? Left abandoned deep within Grimm-infested forests, a small being rose from its ashes to find someone like him. Someone with arms and fingers, not claws and fangs. Someone with red, red eyes, like Grimm, but not Grimm. Someone like "Uncle Qrow, who's that?" — "That's your cousin, Ruby." VampireExperiment!OC
1. Lesson Number One

"It's the middle of the semester, why do you think they suddenly gave us a new class?" Weiss asked rather brusquely as they walked along a new part of the school.

"I dunno, but I bet it's going to be a fun class," Yang replied.

Usually, this particular hallway was rather empty save for a few lost students, but today, it seemed rather crowded.

"You seem unusually excited, even for you," Weiss comments over the din of the students.

"Oh, I just know the professor," Yang shrugged. "He's pretty cool."

When Yang and Weiss finally found their class, it looked like most people were already there.

"How would you know this professor at Beacon?" Weiss asked as they hurried to their seats.

"My uncle taught him. He comes over to visit whenever our uncle does," Yang explained.

"So he's around our age?"

"Well, he's a bit—"

"Alright class, settle down."

In walked a man neither imposing nor impressive. His hair was as black as any other passerby in the city streets of Vale, and his height would be swallowed up by the very same crowd. He dressed impeccably in a vest and slacks, and he wore a watch on his wrist, but there was only one thing that stood out about him.

His eyes were the reddest of crimsons, and if he didn't dress as cleanly as he did or if he wasn't a baby-pink pale, if he had a darker skin tone, he could've been mistaken for a humanoid Grimm. In the right lighting, they almost seem to glow.

"Good evening. I hope you all had a nice lunch break. Usually, this class is held before lunch after Professor Goodwitch's class, but we're not doing anything too intensive today, so it'll be fine," the teacher spoke as he brought out a file with some loose papers. "I'll be handing out the permanent schedule for the rest of your semester now..."

Weiss raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"What exactly is this class?"

"I'm glad you asked Miss Schnee. This class teaches Combat Specialization," the man replied with a small smile. "You must also want to know what Combat Specialization is. Well, have you ever wondered how you would fight if you lost your weapon? How about an arm? A leg? How would you fight if you were tied up? This is where you'll be learning all of that, and more. I'll teach you to overcome the most overwhelming odds, and triumph the most unlikely victories. And I'm your professor, Lonan Branwen. Nice to meet you."

* * *

"Alrighty, you all have your schedules, so I believe we can start the lesson now. Here's a scenario," Lonan crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against his desk. His eyes seemed to stare straight at all the souls of the students.

"You and your team are tasked with a rescue operation of a hostage in a criminal organization. Information has been given to you as to where the hostage is kept, and your commanding officers have told you that the best way to go about this mission, is through subtlety. Half way through infiltrating the building, one of your teammates triggered the security system. Enemies swarm the hallways, but you are able to subdue them. However, after the chaos, two of your teammates are in a completely different location, and you have no way to contact them. The team member that is with you is team member in this class with you right now. What do you do?"

The question was so sudden that Weiss was taken aback. Usually, classes started with the syllabus. The professor would go over their schedules, state their expectations, and what not. The quick way that Lonan thrust them into the lesson threw Weiss off.

Pyrrha raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Nikos?"

"I would search for my teammates before continuing the mission."

"Elaborate," Lonan urged.

"Uhmm...well, Ren is with me, and Nora is with Jaune. In terms of personality, Nora isn't the most subtle person—"

"Understatement," Yang whispered under her breath. Weiss maintained a blank face, but inwardly, she was inclined to agree.

"—and Jaune can't calm her down like Ren can. If left alone, the other two could get into more trouble, and we would be unable to help. Even if we were to continue the mission, there is a chance that we can rescue the hostage, but at the cost of our teammates. Not to mention, they were lost in the middle of a chaotic battle, so they couldn't have gone far. If we can find them, the mission can continue as if the alarm hadn't triggered."

"That is...very optimistic," Lonan said. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Indeed, security systems can be turned off even after they've been triggered, even after a violent confrontation. Indeed, a frontline tank and a strategist is a bad pair up on an infiltration method, but I still think you and Mr. Lie here should continue with the mission without your teammates, especially with a sense of urgency. Do you know why?"

"No...?"

"I think you two should continue the mission because Jaune and Nora can handle themselves."

Pyrrha was about to argue, but Lonan continued.

"Jaune is the team leader. He obviously knows that the stealth expert and the Invincible Girl can handle themselves. Do you know what he would do?"

Lonan uncrossed his arms as his eyes glittered.

"He would do what a team leader would do. He would hope that you have faith that he can handle himself. He would head to the objective, and hope that his teammates are smart enough to meet up there. Now imagine if you had wasted time to search for your teammates before going to the objective, your teammates could have already reached the hostage, waiting for you. They would get antsy, because as secure as they are with the security system off, they wouldn't stay in position for long. They would make their move, free the hostage, and trigger another alarm because they're not going to immediately leave since you're not at the objective with them. In that case, you would bring your team under more danger."

Lonan took a deep breath.

"Now let's say you reached the objective first, and your team leader and heavy hitter aren't there. In fact, you wait for them, and they still didn't make it. Obviously, they've encountered some trouble...but you'll know exactly where because the only trouble they would come across is if another security alarm is triggered. Now, not only have you freed the hostage because you're already at the objective, you also know the location of your teammates. Once you helped your missing teammates with their combat confrontation, you would already have finished the mission."

Murmurs broke out among the students.

"Now, that's your first lesson. Does anyone know what it is?"

"Faith in your teammates?" Pyrrha asked. Lonan nodded.

"What else?"

"Tactics," Weiss commented. "It was like a chess match."

"Good," Lonan nodded again. "What else?"

"Everything will turn out okay?" Yang offered lightly. Lonan took one look at her and laughed.

"Whatever you say Miss Xiao Long. No, in the five minutes I've spent with you, I did so much more. Indeed, I let you know that you should have faith in your teammates because they're your teammates for a reason. I've shown the importance of thinking things through in the midst of a mission, or in fancy words, tactics," Lonan parroted, putting quotes around the word tactics. "But what I want you to know is that not everything will turn out okay. There will be bumps in your life that go up and down, and it's up to you to overcome them. Unpredictable things will happen, and you'll need all the advantages you can get to succeed, or help your teammates succeed. This is the class where you learn those advantages. This class, is so that during the mission, you wouldn't separate from your teammates in the first place."

Lonan took a deep breath.

"This class will not teach you how to become a huntsman. This class, will teach you how to survive."

Silence followed.

Yang started clapping.

The class followed.

Lonan's face started to flush, almost matching his eyes before he clears his throat.

"Alright, alright, settle down. As much as I would like to end class on that awesome note, I have something else to address before I end this short, short class and dismiss you all for the rest of the day," Lonan coughed. "At this point, you must realize something fishy is going on because the other half of your team is not here?"

"Is it because you'll hold a separate class with them?" Pyrrha asked.

"In a way. Have you ever heard that if you know how to teach someone a subject, then you're sure to know that subject? There is only one homework assignment in this class: teach your partner what you've learned here today."

A few cheers went around the class, but a few groans could be heard as well.

"At the end of the semester, I'll have you bring your partner in, and test them. Your final grade depends on them. If they pass my test, then you pass as well. If they fail...well. You don't want to know what remedial lessons consist of. Any questions?"

Ren raised his hand.

"No? Okay. Dismissed!"

Ren lowered his hand.

Weiss growled. How was she going to teach Ruby...whatever Professor Branwen taught her today?

What did he even TEACH?

Don't mistake her, she thought it was a pleasant lesson, but it felt like many things mashed together into a comprehensible, but complicated mess.

"Come on Weiss, let's go tell Ruby and Blake about Lonan before we forget about the lecture," Yang said as the classroom emptied.

"Address him with a little respect," Weiss lightly rebuked, but got up from her seat to follow Yang out.

At least she had Yang to help explain to Ruby.

* * *

Or not. Yang's explanation consisted of re-stating all the things that were said, but explained nothing about the lesson.

"And then he said something about faith and a chess match or whatever," Yang shrugged.

"Sounded...exciting," Blake drawled.

"Trust me Blake, it was a lot more interesting when he was teaching it," Yang laughed.

"Lonan always makes things more interesting!" Ruby agreed.

"Speaking of which, how are you and Ruby so...casual with him?" Weiss asked Yang.

"He's our cousin!" Ruby answered before Yang could, an excited smile on her face.

"Cousin?"

"Yeah! Uncle Qrow brought him over one day, and just said he was our cousin! He trains with us sometimes, but most of the time he goes wherever Uncle Qrow goes! We still think of him as family though!" Ruby chirped.

"Although we didn't know he would be teaching at Beacon. I'm not surprised though, since Uncle Qrow teaches at Signal sometimes. It's probably a side job for Lonan," Yang figured.

"So he's a full-time huntsman?" Weiss asked.

"Not...exactly. He's still an apprentice, I think? But he's been taking missions and everything, so I guess?" Ruby hummed.

"What kind of answer is that?" Weiss huffed.

"The only one they have. It seems this Professor Branwen is a mystery," Blake hummed along with Ruby.

"You think our cousin is a mystery?" Yang laughed louder than before. "That guy's just a huge dork when he's not being all charismatic."

"I don't believe you," Weiss crossed her arms over her chest.

"Trust me, he is," Ruby confirmed.

"You, calling someone else a dork?" Weiss retorted.

"Hey, I resent that!"

"Aww, don't worry sis. You're a very cute dork!"

"Yaaaang!"

* * *

 **A/N: I would be a terrible teacher in real life. So...what'd YOU learn from Lonan's lesson?**

 **Edit: Originally this was the prologue, and the first chapter. But this whole thing is now the prologue. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**


	2. Before He Could Walk

XX Years ago...

The Black Boxes always have voices coming out from them. He would recognize some of them sometimes, but he couldn't quite put a name on them yet. So far there was Shrieky, Wimpy, and Gruff. Subject 00-26 was fascinated how some White Ones could fit into those Black Boxes but the White Ones would never let him touch the Black Boxes.

There was this one time where he was given an egg, and he accidentally broke the shell. Doctor Dougy told him that eggshells were fragile, and one had to be gentle with them. Over the years, the White Ones treated him like an egg...except for Doctor Dougy. 00-26 liked Doctor Dougy. He visited every morning, and brought him treats sometimes.

In fact, here he comes now. Subject 00-26 perked up as the thick grey door slid open.

"Good morning, 26. How are you today?" Doctor Dougy asked pleasantly. He too had a white coat like all the White Ones, but 26 liked the way that Doctor Dougy seemed to stand out even when in uniform. The sleeves were rolled up, and underneath all that white was a blue dot-dot shirt. Doctor told him that White Ones like him called the pattern "polka" dot. How weird.

"I am...good. How are you, Doctor Doug-Dougall?" 26 stumbled, but smiled when Doctor Dougy seemed to beam at the rightful pronunciation of his name.

"I am wonderful 26, truly. Thank you for asking. We're going to perform some tests again today. Would you like to play with the radio?" Doctor Dougy said, but he was already reaching for one.

"Yes please," 26 responded anyway, and hands reaching out for the Black Bo—erhh. Radio.

As Doctor Dougy prepared the tests that 00-26 would take, 00-26 fiddled with the "radio." There were knobs that he could turn left and right, and buttons he could press. How exciting. If put under the right conditions, they must do something interesting! He remembered that the last White One to visit him last night had used the Black Box too! They pressed a button on the side, and then spoke into it! A few seconds later, a voice would speak back.

Subject 00-26 pressed the button on the side, and took a deep breath. He was excited. "H-hello?"

"Lazarus? Did you give the child your walkie-talkie again?" a nice voice asked. 00-26 looked back at Doctor Dougy, who had a sheepish expression on his face.

"Sorry darling. He looked so curious, I couldn't resist," Doctor Dougy spoke to the black box. 26 didn't know what he did, but he put a smile on Doctor Dougy's face, and that in turn made him happy—regardless of the fact that the smile looked a bit embarrassed, and the fact that the voice called Doctor Dougy something other than Doctor Dougy. 00-26 thought Lazarus was a nice name though. It must belong to Doctor Dougy.

"Well, you're lucky that the thing is connected to my line right now. If it was Orianne or Atlan that overheard the child, you would be in deep trouble," the nice voice replied.

00-26 was horrified. If other people knew he was playing with the Black Box, Doctor Dougy would get in trouble? Oh, that was bad. Very bad. 00-26 handed the "radio" back to Doctor Dougy.

Doctor Dougy took it, but only seemed amused at 00-26's expression. Did Doctor Dougy not know what "get in trouble" meant? That was very bad!

"If you could come and look at him now, darling. You made him absolutely horrified, he handed the radio back to me!" Doctor Dougy spoke into the radio. "Truly, this child is getting smarter and smarter everyday!"

"He must be getting it from you," the nice voice replied. The Black radio crackled for a bit before the voice continued. "Anyways, I have to get back to work. Tell 26 thank you for the very cute hello."

"You heard her, 26. She says thank you for the cute hello," Doctor Dougy gave 26 one last amused look before fixing the tests again.

00-26 contemplated over the last few minutes with the black radio. What a confusing device it was...but how fun too! He decided that the nice voice would be called Nice, because it really was nice. It was too light to be like Wimpy and Gruff's voices, but too gentle to be Shrieky's voice. So it was a Nice voice, so different from the others, just like how Doctor Dougy was different from the White Ones.

While Nice was his favorite voice from the black box, Doctor Dougy was still his favorite White One.

"Alright 26, the tests are going to begin. Follow my instructions now, okay?" Doctor Dougy said, standing in front of 26.

26 nodded.

"This is called a stress ball," Doctor Dougy said, handing 26 a round object. "When people work too much, they feel bad, and that bad feeling is stress. One way to get rid of stress is to squeeze this ball."

26 rolled it in between his palms, fascinated with something that could get rid of bad feelings. It was a simple round shape, just as black as the black box.

"When you're ready, I want you to squeeze it as hard as you can, okay?" Doctor Dougy asked. 26 nodded.

After rolling it a few more times, 26 gripped the ball into the center of his palm, and **_squeezed._**

The rubber material started to split apart in a slow manner, 26's nails piercing into the tough textures—

"26, let go, let go! Okay, there..."

26 opened his palm again, surprised to see that the ball had gone through the cracks of his fingers, and his nails have started piercing his own palm instead. Red liquid started spilling out as Doctor Dougy panicked.

"You're growing really strong lately," he commented, using a wet, horrible-smelling cloth to wipe the red away. 26 continued to stare at it, but when his hand was all clean, there was only skin. "You're growing strong, truly," Doctor Dougy breathed, amazed at 26's healing ability.

* * *

The room was well-lit compared to the rest of the low-budget facility. A woman—his boss—sat at a large mahogany desk, arms crossed over her plentiful bosom. Besides her stood two men, one tall and buff, the other short and stocky. Her bodyguard and her head scientist, respectively.

"Well?" the woman raised a well-groomed eyebrow. Her voice sounded scratchy as she tried to go for an intimidating tone. One could assume that if she were to shout, it was be a very unimpressive shriek.

"It's amazing, truly. When he turns ten, he'll be able to heal wounds from fatal injuries. Even with the blood and cell samples we take now, we can cure up to ten different diseases," Dr. Dougall reported. "From what we can see, his physical growth is that of a normal child, and his DNA is stable. His mental growth, however, was stilted, we feared he would turn out brain-dead a few years ago. Our hypothesis was disproven when he started picking things up faster than normal just a few months ago."

The woman's bodyguard frowned. "Explain."

"Well, when we started the project eight years ago, Subject 00-26 was a dead egg cell. When he reached 4 years of age, we knew his brain functions probably wouldn't match ours. Six years, and he had still yet to talk. We knew that while we revived his body with dust and technology, he was probably just a soulless doll with dust and technology acting as the battery. To our surprise, a few months ago, he started talking! In just a matter of two months, he's gained eight years of mental development! At this rate, he would reach an adult mentality by fourteen!"

The woman didn't seem pleased by this answer.

"And how is **_it_** acting now?"

"Now? Subject 00-26 is still learning new things. Sometimes he would mistake one term for another, like how a Black Box would be a radio—"

"No, no, no, I mean how is it **_acting_**. Hostile? Brain-dead? Stupid? Is it hiding something? Plotting something?"

"Uhmm...well, miss. He just seems curious about the world," Dr. Dougall replied uneasily.

"Any chance that he would want to escape?" the woman urged. The stocky head scientist fidgeted in place.

"No, not from what I've seen," Dr. Dougall told them truthfully.

The woman sighed as if partially relieved, but partially frustrated. "You're dismissed, Dr. Dougall. I still expect the written report on my desk next week."

"Yes ma'am."

As Dr. Dougall left the room, he hears the gruff bodyguard saying something along the lines of, "you've been reading too many sci-fi horror novels."

Something fishy was going on around here. He wanted to know what.

* * *

"Doctor Dougall!" 00-26 smiled as he came in.

"Hello there 26. What are you doing?" Doctor Dougall asked curiously. There was no more need for him to return here. All the tests have been done for the day. However, every time he returned, 26 just looked so, so happy. Not to mention, he felt as if 26 would have some answers he's been looking for.

"I'm painting," 26 answered, scrunching up his face. "I don't really like how the paint sticks to my hands, but I like the pretty colors."

"Those colors are very pretty," Doctor Dougall nodded. "Can you tell me if any other scientists have come in lately? To chat, or to play?"

"Uhmm...I don't know his name. He's short though...and kind of fat. His voice was kind of wimpy," 26 described. Doctor Dougall mentally noted that to be the head scientist that was standing next to his boss earlier. "He came in a while ago, but he wasn't any fun. He didn't ask any questions like you do, and he doesn't play with me either. He just stands in a corner and stares at me."

"How does that make you feel?" Doctor Dougall asked curiously.

"I dunno. I don't like it though."

"Yeah. I don't like it either, 26."

"Alright, you asked a question, now I want to ask one too," 00-26 huffed. Doctor Dougall looked taken aback, pleasant surprise on his face.

"Oh? What kind of question?"

"Who was the Nice voice on the Black radio?"

"Ah. That's my wife," Doctor Dougall answered, astonishment on his face. "Why do you ask?"

"No real reason. I just really, really like her voice," 00-26 insisted, moving his arms in a way to mean that by _"really,"_ he meant _"a lot."_

"Well, how about the next time we do tests, I bring her along? I'm sure we can take her away from her own job for a while to see you," Doctor Dougall offered.

"Really? Won't she get in trouble?"

"If we tell her boss beforehand, I don't believe so."

"Truly?" 26 asked cheekily.

Dr. Dougall laughed, "truly."

As the scientist and the subject chatted away, they never saw the recording camera gleam ominously in the corner of the room.

* * *

 **A/N: Hmm. Things will start to pick up next chapter. You probably knew that though, with how this chapter ended, haha.**


	3. He Was Forced to Run

**WARNING: Unethical experimentation, faint occurrence of child abuse, and the beginnings of world mechanics of RWBY, a.k.a. aura and semblance.**

* * *

 _Project Designation: Project Synthesis_

 _ID Number: 2S-93306_

 _Name: Doctor Lazarus Dougall_

 _Details: The Branch Scientist of Project Synthesis. Friendly among colleagues, but emotionally compromised. Will not deal with new subject tests._

* * *

 _Subject Designation: Project Synthesis_

 _Subject Number: S-00-26_

 _Subject Description: Black hair, red eyes, takes the appearance of a child._

 _Subject Strength: Abnormal_

 _Subject Speed: Normal_

 _Subject Intelligence: Abnormal_

 _Subject Development: Subject first showed signs of decreased motor function until fifth year. No signs of mental development until eighth year. Tremendous increase of understanding in the span of two months. **Dangerous.**_

 _Additional Details: Has an extreme attachment to Dr. Lazarus Dougall. Must eliminate relationship immediately._

* * *

 _Project Synthesis_

 _Goal: The creation of immortal bodies with synthetic life form._

 _Secondary Goal: The transfer of an adult mind into a new body to retain life beyond mortal years._

* * *

A week later...

"Dr. Dougall, just the man I was looking for."

Dr. Dougall looked up from his work, surprised to see that his boss had come to visit him.

"Miss Orianne. I'm sorry if I'm late delivering that report. I'm just finishing up here," he greeted.

"No, I wasn't rushing for the report, although if you have it done, I wouldn't mind taking it off your hands," the woman smiled back, but it wasn't a nice smile. "No, I had something I wish to speak to you about."

Dr. Dougall set down his work. "I'm all ears."

"Tell me doctor, have you ever wondered what this project is about?" she queried.

"I don't...understand what you mean."

"Have you ever wondered what this project's goal was about," Miss Orianne clarified.

"Well, you had us revive dead egg cells to create synthetic life. I assumed it was just that," Dr. Dougall said.

"No, it's so much more. Imagine, a dead egg cell brought to life with nothing more but dust and technology. If it was a dead person, how far would this transform the medical industry?" Miss Orianne asked, not expecting an answer. Dr. Dougall was just about to start contemplating her meaning, but she gave him more to think about. "But then this project took a turn that surprised us all. Not only did the subject exhibit life, but _durability_ that no other human is capable of."

"Durability at the cost of aura," Dr. Dougall corrected. "While he regenerates incredibly fast, he doesn't have any capability to unlock his aura. In fact, he seems to need monthly shots of liquid energizers."

"Indeed...but what need do humans have for aura when any harm done to the body is reversed in mere seconds?" Orianne retorted. "The whole reason warriors use aura is to prevent lasting damage, but let's say they'll never get lasting damage. Aura would be a moot point."

"Miss Orianne...I don't understand what you're trying to say here," Dr. Dougall said, his uneasy feeling coming back to him.

She looked at him, dead in the eye.

"I may read too many sci-fi novels to be realistic, but I'll lay it down simple enough: Subject 00-26 is a breakthrough. It's body can bring something extraordinary into this world. If we can reproduce the results of his experiment...imagine how bright the future of Remnant would look."

She waited as he processed her words, and became disappointed at the horrified expression that dawned on his face.

"You want to...create an army with...?"

"No, that would be too boring. It would also take too long. No, I want to create a body, _just the body_ , for huntsmen to use," she sniffed, going to his desk and picking up the half-compiled file on Subject 00-26. "You know, I visited the records hall lately. One particular...Scroll Chip was missing."

Dr. Dougall seemed to tense up, but forced himself to relax.

"I suppose I should tell you that Dr. Atlan has been observing 00-26, so I should already know most of the data you've collected. It seems the past half hour, you were contemplating whether or not you should include all the files...or just enough to keep my satisfied?"

Dr. Dougall grew alarmed, unable to keep himself calm this time.

"I still don't know all the discoveries that you've made on 00-26, but I do know that you're keeping a lot of secrets. You now possess both your own secrets, AND the secrets of the company that you shouldn't know. I know you know the whole of Project Synthesis in its entirety...and I know that holds the key to my success," Orianne laughed lightly, unpleasantly. "If you would just **cooperate,** there are so many other uses we can incorporate Subject 00-26 in...In the name of science, you should throw away those pretty sugar and spice morals of yours."

"I don't know what you mean."

 ** _"Don't play dumb doctor. It's unbecoming of you. Tell me, how much of your aura have you been feeding 00-26, where the Scroll Chip on the project is, and why should I let you continue working on the project after this betrayal?"_**

* * *

00-26 loved it when Dr. Dougy came to visit, especially when he didn't have any tests to do.

Oh, it wasn't like he hated the tests. Most of the tests were kind of fun, if a bit weird, like that one time Dr. Dougy had him drink this golden yellow cup of...something. It was misty and thin, not quite like water, not quite like air. It made the pain in his tummy go away, even though he didn't notice there was pain there to begin with. The White Ones called it aura.

Ever since that one time, 00-26 was able to see the auras of everyone! Some of the White Ones had really little of it, sometimes white or gray. He tried some of theirs whenever they felt brave enough to come into his chambers, but 26 realized that taking aura from someone who had so little was dangerous. Poor White One fainted in his chamber! Once Dr. Dougy heard about it, he had been scolded for doing something so dangerous to someone...

00-26 then resolved that he would never take any aura from someone with so little to give. He guessed that since they had so little, they couldn't share it. Dr. Dougy had a bunch though, and it always waved at him through the observation room, as if saying hello through the glass! When Dr. Dougy was close, 00-26 would nip some of that colorful substance, and snack on it, but not before asking of course.

It's only polite after all!

This particular day had started happy, since 00-26 thought the White Ones finally had the courage to come back in and play with him. When they pulled out needles, he asked them what they were going to do.

They didn't answer.

He let them grab his arm, making sure that he didn't take any of their aura accidentally. Skin contact sometimes did that.

They stuck the needle in, and he felt a little pinch, but that was okay. Some of the tests were painful sometimes.

He asked them what this would do to him. Dr. Dougy always explained a test.

They didn't answer.

The edge of his vision started to go black—

The last thing 00-26 thought was that Dr. Dougy made tests more fun.

* * *

Dr. Dougall didn't answer Orianne, and after a tense stare down, he quickly booked it.

"GUARDS! SOUND THE ALARM!" came her unholy screech.

Dr. Dougall could still hear the echo of her voice bouncing off of the walls.

If the staff of this facility was smart, the first thing they would do would be to disable his access card. All the walls were reinforced so that no experiments could escape, but Dr. Dougall was smarter than that. If they didn't let him do it the easy way, he'll just have to do it the hard way. Before that though...

"Darling?"

"Honey? What's going on? I heard the security alarm go off. Did one of the experiments escape?" the radio crackled, but even with the static, the voice of his wife was a godsend. No wonder 26 called it "nice." It really was.

"No, but they're going to."

"...what? What do you mean?"

"Darling, remember our wedding vows? I vowed to stay the man you fell in love with."

"Lazarus if you're going to do something stupid for the love of all—"

"I love you dear. I have to do this, or my conscience won't let me live it down."

Dr. Dougall threw away his radio as his wife continued to try to get his attention.

"—we can talk about this!" the radio faded into the background as Dr. Dougall raced to 00-26's experimentation chambers.

No, there was no talking involved. Orianne had already sounded the alarms, and she told him straight out to _throw away his morals._ A boss who can tell him to do that without hesitation is not a boss he would want to work for.

There was also no way he can allow her to create countless _synthetic bodies_ for her to sell. 00-26 might have not had a mind, might have just been a body a few months ago, but 00-26 was proof that synthetic or not, dead eggs cells were not just BODIES. They were sentient too! If these living organisms could grow to be humans, there was no way he was going to let whatever twisted plot Orianne wanted to enact to happen to 26.

By the time he reached 26's room, two scientists had already put the child to sleep.

Dr. Dougall slammed the door open. His access card still worked, thank Oum.

"U-uh, sir! I'm sorry but this is an order from the higher-ups..."

"Let him go."

"But sir—"

"Let him go, Paul," Dr. Dougall growled.

The two scientists backed up as Dr. Dougall walked forward.

"I know you two to be good men. If you have any shred of humanity left in you, you would quit," he said as he picked up 00-26. "You're either going to end up heartless like Orianne...or a future fugitive like me."

The two scientists looked at each other, unsure expressions on their faces as Dr. Dougall left.

* * *

00-26 thought that when he woke up, it would be strapped to a metal table. They did the same thing once before when he was still half his size!

...but it was a long time ago. He didn't quite understand what to even call the White Ones at the time.

Instead, 00-26 woke up in Dr. Dougy's arms. All around him was green, green, everything was green, like that one picture book with the forest!

"Doctor Dougall? Are we...in a forest?" 26 whispered in awe.

The doctor froze, his body tensing up as he looked down on 26. A difficult smile made its way onto the doctor's face.

"Yes, 26. We are," he said in a voice, just as quiet.

"What are we doing in a forest?"

"I don't think I can explain that right now, 26. It'll take too much time that we don't have," Dr. Dougy replied. 26 didn't really understand. "But you need to know that the place we came from? It's dangerous for you. The scientists want to do bad things to you."

"The White Ones? They're bad?"

"The ones in the facility, yes. I want to protect you," Dr. Dougy confirmed. 00-26 didn't know what the warm fuzzy feeling in his stomach was, but he liked it.

"Then I'll _protect_ Dr. Dougy too!"

"You're still a bit too small for that," Dr. Dougy laughed lightly. "But you know what you can help me with right now?"

"What?"

"You can help me protect this Scroll Chip. Once you're old enough, you can open it...but for now, keep it with you, and never lose it. Can you do that?"

"Yeah!"

"Alright. Then...one final test."

Dr. Dougy seemed to not want to give the test.

"I can handle it!" 00-26 smiled at Dr. Dougy brightly.

"Very well. I want you to play a kind of game with me. It tests how smart you can be, okay?" Dr. Dougy asked. When 26 nodded, he continued, "I want you to play hide-and-seek with me. You go hide, and make sure you're not found. If someone is close to finding you, you run, and then hide again, okay?"

"Okay. When do I stop hiding?"

"In a while, I'll set the forest on fire. You've seen my aura?"

"Yeah! Sometimes you accidentally set things on fire, but they never burn me!"

"It might burn you this time, I'm not sure," Dr. Dougall commented, worry on his face.

"It'll be fine, Dr. Dougy! I know you don't hurt me on purpose."

"Right, right. Once the forest burns, and burns out, you can stop hiding, okay?"

"Okay!"

"Are you sure you can handle this test? It's a very big test, and I'll be very disappointed if you fail this one," Dr. Dougy frowned.

"I can do it!"

"Truly?"

"Truly!"

Dr. Dougall placed his hands over his eyes. "I'm going to count down from twenty now! You better hide, far, far away!"

20...

19...

...2...

...1...

Lazarus Dougall could hear the security team browse the nearby foliage now. It was time to set the world on fire.

* * *

 **A/N: We discover that 00-26 is a vampire that feeds on aura, yay! I mean...I guess I put a lot of junk in there that you don't need to read. Just read...that one bolded line and everything after it, I guess?**

 **Also, Qrow appears in chapter 4. Or 5. No promises lol.**


	4. Blazing Origins

**CAUTION: Profanity, child alone in the woods, vague but gruesome imagery of human torture, death of civilian background characters, and...Qrow. You've been warned.**

* * *

Qrow Branwen would openly admit that he's the bad sort. He would outright and proudly proclaim that he's the baddest bitch in all of godddamn Remnant, but at the same time, the cool, silent types were always deadlier. So he went with being cool and silent.

The ragged red cape and upturned black collar only added to his charm.

With that kind of thing going on, Qrow likes to think that despite being a huntsman, he wouldn't be led around the kingdom-side doing _quests_ like an MMORPG. _Farm 20 Grimm. Need a package delivered. Find a murderer. Oh look a treasure hunt I need someone to protect me._

No, he wasn't anyone's pack mule, and he wasn't just going to do any job any random person asks of him. He was a huntsman, not a knight, and most definitely not an officer from the Atlesian military.

But he wouldn't, for the life of him, leave a damsel in distress to her distress.

"Was there anything strange going on before they disappeared?" he asked, gruffly but not rudely. He didn't need to add to this poor woman's problems.

"Well...there was a wildfire," she sniffed.

"Wildfire?"

"The fires started three weeks back. It lasted longer than we thought it would," the female innkeeper said, her eyes puffy from crying and her hair an absolute bird's nest. "Once it stopped, we didn't think anything about it, but Jared disappeared, and then Brima followed him...maybe to try and find him. They could've just got lost, so we sent Old Man Mack in. Brima was his apprentice, ya'know? Taught her everything he knew, so he was gonna bring her back, kickin' and screamin' about how spartan his lessons are or some such. He knew the forest like the back of his hand...but it's been a week and they're still gone!"

By the end of her barely understandable explanation, she was wailing. A bar regular came over to console her.

"Well, I guess I'll go check on that forest. Might be some strong Grimm," Qrow said, not quite sure how to make her calm down. It was obvious that Old Man Mack was a retired huntsman who took someone under his wing, and the village was depending on that for good news. What a joke. Just because they were huntsmen didn't mean they were invincible. He almost wanted to snort, but that would probably make the lady even more upset. In the end, he decided to leave it to the bar regular to comfort her, and left a hefty tip for her.

Maregrove was a small village, but it was a thriving one. Known for their well-bred horses and horse races, people from kingdoms would sometimes come to the village for a little betting pool. There was a large event in Maregrove a few years back that attracted tourists like crazy, and huntsmen were sent to patrol here often. Now, only an old retired huntsman was stationed here, and it seems that whatever is plaguing this village was too much for him to handle.

Qrow didn't want to touch the subject with a ten-foot pole, but he had no doubt that those three individuals were already long gone. Three weeks was a long time to survive without food and water, being a civilian and all. For the retired huntsman and apprentice trainee, a week or two wasn't too bad because one of the most important skills to have for the huntsmen who grow up in the field was wilderness survival, but...well. He had a feeling.

Ten minutes later, Qrow arrived at the forest entrance, and stared. The trees were wet.

Not like someone poured water on it—kind of wet, but more like the very bark of the tree was a sponge and naturally soaks up water into itself—kind of wet.

Whatever kind of fire was lit, it wasn't anything natural, that's for sure. To be able to burn wet kindling meant it had to be the work of aura or some sort of semblance.

He walked through the greenery for hours before concluding that there was nothing weird about it. The way the foliage covered all sorts of light sources gave him chills, but he wouldn't mind staying the night on top of some nice mossy rocks. A river was nearby too. If anything, the forest looked like Patch's backyard, except with more leaves.

There would no doubt be some Grimm lurking around, but from what he knew, these Grimm weren't a big deal.

If he had brought some supplies, he might've even been able to camp and roast some—

 _Rustling._

His hand reached for his weapon, body half-crouched and coiled muscles ready to move in an instant. Wary eyes scanned the vicinity, but no matter where he looked, it was black and green. Grimm eyes, being as red and luminescent as they are, would be easy to spot...

There!

Exactly what he was looking for.

Launching himself in the direction of the red eyes—ignoring how much duller they seem in comparison to actual Grimm eyes—Qrow unsheathed his blade and slashed.

He was expecting a hiss of wispy black mist, but he wasn't expecting the spray of blood.

Or the bloodcurdling scream that came afterward.

* * *

26 couldn't believe it. He was outside of the "facility," as Dr. Dougy called it. It was like an adventure!

However, he remembered that Dr. Dougy had told him they were playing hide-and-seek. 26 was going to prove that this was a test he was going pass better than any other test he took before!

26 faintly remembered when some of the White Ones were losing things, and would search for them where they remembered using it last. That means if 26 didn't want to be found, he had to find a place no one's been before.

He'd have to find a place where no one has walked before. What an exciting thought!

He hurried through the forest, grinning happily at the loose dirt beneath his bare feet. It felt cool, soft, and overall pleasant. Occasionally, something sharp or hard would pierce his sole, but when he looked down, his feet were fine.

It was about a few minutes later—although if the sun moved halfway across the sky, was it a few minutes?—that 26 found a beautiful tree. It twisted in certain ways that no other tree did—and while there were some trees that twisted, it wasn't twisted as beautifully as this one. It's branches were low, but it grew tall and the leaves were plentiful. 26 climbed it.

Perched within a closed niche, 26 was sure that no one would find him. No one below could see him, and if they can't see him, they can't find him!

26 found it to be perfectly good logic. Truly.

But wait, if no one could find him, did that mean he was lost?

Shucks.

But Dr. Dougy would find him, right? Dr. Dougy was smart. He wouldn't let 26 be lost!

With that comforting thought in mind, he drifted off...

* * *

It burned.

It burned and stung and scorched—

He woke up, rolled, fell—

Snap! CRUNCH!

His legs ached but he ran, he screamed—

It hurt, so, so much—

He ran, and ran, and ran but the orange blaze was faster, roaring and chasing and consuming everything green—

And then all he was given was blinding, blinding pain.

Something melted onto his face

He rolled on the ground.

Where was the dark, soft, dirt below his feet?

Why was it blistering...?!

Where was Dr. Dougy? Did the fires burn out yet? Could he go back now? Was the test over?

He didn't care if he did good or not he just wanted the pain to stop.

The White Ones never hurt him like this.

Dr. Dougy never hurt him like this...

But 26...knew...these were Dr. Dougy's flames.

It hurt.

His vision blurred.

His hands were pitch black.

Fingers twitched.

The tips dissolved into ash.

* * *

Hungry.

He was so, so hungry.

Truly.

Food wouldn't be enough.

White Ones (the scientists) fed him food, but it never filled him up like aura did.

He needed aura.

There was none around.

The ground was charred black...just like him.

Every patch of black hurt...

His feet hurt the most.

But he walked.

He walked away from the black.

Then he saw something other than black.

Something other than red and orange.

The ground had little sparks of green. (Grass.)

He couldn't use his hands because they were gone but he touched the aura and ate it.

The trees had wisps of white. (Bark.)

He leaned his bare back against it, and with contact he ate that aura too.

Something blue flew by. (Bird.)

He grabbed the color and ate that too.

A wary purple approached him. (Human.)

.

.

.

 _ **He took that and ate it too.**_

Sometimes a Black One ( _Grimm_ , a voice whispered. _Brothers. Sisters. So hungryhungryHUnGRy..._ ) would try to take the aura he gathered for himself.

He snarled at them, and they backed off.

Sometimes, he watched them fight each other, wrestling for dominance, but they never did with him.

Sometimes, they would sit by his side, and their eyes would meet.

26 noted they're the same color as his own eyes.

Red.

So red.

* * *

He felt a little better.

He was still hungry, but he could eat grass and leaves without feeling too horrible.

He was confused though.

Where's Dr. Dougy?

A pretty lady came close to him and cooed at him.

"You're absolutely filthy. How about you come with me to the river nearby and I'll clean you up?"

He agreed. He did feel a little gross compared to the state he was in back in the facility.

"My name's Brima. What's your name?"

His throat was so dry...he didn't think he could speak. The lady didn't seem to mind though.

"Well, I'm certain it's a pleasure to meet you."

The woman was so gentle with him.

"I'm looking for my neighbor, Jared. That's why I came into this forest. He disappeared a while ago."

A human in the forest.

"He had brown hair, tanned skin, and purple eyes. A shy kid, really. He came here a week ago looking for his lost dog, Gumbee," she continued to speak.

Her voice was soothing.

It was...nice.

Did she say that someone had purple eyes? Did she like purple?

He liked purple too. He ate it when he was too hungry, and then he felt better.

Purple was a nice color.

* * *

"Brima, get-get away from that...THING," a wrinkly person shouted at the nice woman.

26 hid behind her legs.

"But Mack, he's harmless! Just a kid!" the woman argued.

"That thing's been eatin' at your aura for the past WEEK. You're absolutely gaunt, Brima!" the man growled back.

"You're just a paranoid old man," the woman huffed, crossing her arms. 26 perked up at the word aura. He wondered what the word "gaunt" meant though.

"I'm giving you a fair warning, Brima, let go of the... ** _kid_** , or I'll force 'im off of ya," the wrinkly person said, moving that stick in his arms threateningly.

26 wondered what that stick did. Some of the White Ones used to call in Blue Ones, who had those sticks. They made giant 'bang bang' sounds.

"Mack, don't joke about that. If you know the way to the village, we can all go back together. The kid needs some help anyway, his clothes are absolute rags," the woman insisted, while managing to sound as if she was talking about the weather.

"For Oum's sake Brima that's no KID!" the wrinkly person threw his hands up in annoyance. "His skin is BLACK. His eyes are RED! For all we know he might be some sort of new Grimm!"

"Oh jeez, I thought I washed all that dirt off your face. I guess I didn't do a good job huh?"

"For the love of—"

BANG!

* * *

26 stared down at his hands.

They weren't black anymore, but they were red.

So, so red.

He remembered that Dr. Dougy used something wet to wash the red all away when he squeezed that stress ball too hard. He had red too, but the red on his hands right now wasn't his. If he went to the river to wash the red, maybe he'll see his hands again.

What are skin colors called?

What did that woman—Brima, say about her friend? Tanned skin?

So is tan a color?

He missed that nice woman.

She protected him from the wrinkly person, and the red spilled out.

With her gone, the wrinkly person started chasing him. When 26 crossed the river though, the old wrinkly person fell in. He didn't come back up.

26 thought he should probably go back to the river to wash.

He remembered what the woman did, so he can do it by himself now.

* * *

There was another human that was approaching the forest.

26 felt wary.

So far, not a lot of human interaction with him was friendly.

Was this man going to be like the nice lady or the wrinkly person?

Mr. Dougy was nice and he wasn't wrinkly.

The nice lady wasn't wrinkly either...

And this man wasn't wrinkly either.

Maybe this man would be nice too.

Before 26 could react, the man rushed at him—

He screamed.

* * *

 **A/N: Qrow no. Qrow no. Bad Qrow.**

 **Also, I'm tired of writing in a way that develops 26's knowledge of the world. The ping pong perspective might end next chapter...**


	5. Vermilion Lives

**WARNING: Blood and violence. Should I change this to an M rating?**

* * *

Qrow stared dumbly down at the limp body. It was covered head to toe in dirt, so it looked like some sort of new Grimm at first glance, but the stringy, too thin arms and the bare feet with individual stubby toes were no doubt those of a human child.

The most shocking thing was how easily he cut the body. A thick red gash laid from the child's shoulder to hip, fresh blood still oozing out slowly, but fast enough to be fatal. He had never struck a human with no aura. The first thing they teach in the Academies was that civilians differed vastly from huntsman in that were easily taken out in one blow. Active huntsmen were to treat civilians courteously, and a strict moral code was hammered into their minds that among normal people, they were almost godly in their power.

Most huntsmen abide by the old teachings. Even those who had turned their backs to the law would never openly strike a civilian. Threaten, shove around, and maybe a few stinging punches, but never outright strike to kill. Only the most crazed psycho or desperate man would use their huntsman strength against someone as fragile as a baby kitten.

And yet, Qrow had done just that.

Not just any civilian, but a child civilian.

Granted, the child was at a bad place during a bad time, but that was no excuse.

Qrow should have known when to draw his weapon, when to stay his hand.

He could still feel the flesh rendering beneath his blade, and a shiver went down his back.

Tumultuous feelings rumbled inside him, but after focusing, he realized that accumulating packs of Grimm and his screaming instincts were at fault for the uncomfortable state he found himself in.

He felt no guilt for the death of the child...

Or did he?

He never claimed to be a good person, but was he really that depraved?

His hand gripped the handle of the trigger, ready to deploy his scythe—

The dead child was coughing, the red flesh sealing until it was nothing but a thin, pink line.

Around Qrow, the Grimm did nothing but pace restlessly, as if judging him.

Qrow looked down at the child. Maybe he wasn't a civilian after all...

Well what was he to do now?

Qrow was never taught what to do when confronted with an unconscious, aura-less, immortal child while surrounded by non-hostile Grimm.

Ozpin wouldn't believe him even if he told him.

* * *

"I don't believe you."

"Oz I'm telling you, that kid just regrew his organs! I'm pretty sure I cracked his collarbone and a few ribs too, come to think of it."

Ozpin silently sipped his coffee.

"You were being sarcastic again, weren't you," Qrow deadpanned.

Ozpin didn't say anything, but Qrow knew that old bastard was laughing inside.

"One of these days, you're going to turn me into an alcoholic," Qrow rubbed his face.

"You already drink excessively," Ozpin dismissed.

"Yeah, but not enough to be classified as alcoholism. My poor liver," Qrow bemoaned.

"Qrow, I've told you fairy tales about wizards and maidens, and you think I wouldn't believe you if you brought home a runaway science experiment?" Ozpin retorted, ignoring the comment of impeding liver failure on Qrow's part, as well as the silver flask that his best huntsman never seems to be without.

In fact, Qrow was taking a drink right now, and almost spit it back out.

"Wait, runaway science experiment?" he parroted, eyes wide.

"Cervical Surgeries contacted us about missing 'cargo,' due to one of their scientists turning rogue. In fact, all of the kingdoms know about the runaway. It was said that the subject could cure many illnesses with its blood alone," Ozpin hummed. "None of us would think it was an eight year-old little boy."

"Especially not when those assholes call the boy 'cargo,'" Qrow snorted.

"Says the man who cut him down," Ozpin sniped.

"I won't deny being an asshole, but hey, he recovered fine, didn't he?" Qrow defended.

Ozpin rolled his eyes. "You must have at least injured him a few more times while transporting him here to Beacon."

"So...what do you intend to do with him?" Qrow continued, hoping for a more professional change of subject before he was put into a harsher spotlight.

"It depends," Ozpin replied mysteriously.

"You're not as cunning as you try to make yourself be Ozpin," Qrow glared. "You're going to pull your interrogation-offer thing again, aren't you?"

"Qrow, you can stop giving yourself gray hairs if you already know what I'm plotting."

"For Oum's sake Oz."

The two men walked towards the infirmary in companionable silence, their footsteps the only sound echoing in the halls.

Outside, they could hear the faint sounds of Huntsmen-in-training, whether it was laughter, chatter, or even some mock fights between teams or teammates. It was a familiar din, comforting for someone like Qrow who has spent much time in places with little civilization. In the wild...things were also so quiet.

Upon arriving at the infirmary, the only occupant on the bed was the very boy that Qrow brought in, still crusted in dirt and blood. He was awake though, crimson eyes blinking confusedly at them.

He seemed to recognize Qrow, because the minute the boy spotted the huntsman, he scooted backwards on his bed so quick, he fell off and crashed to the floor.

Ozpin gave Qrow a look, and Qrow nodded. He left Ozpin and the boy alone.

"Hello there," Ozpin greeted, noticing the boy had sequestered himself away in a corner, face set with equal measures of fear and defiance. It was a sight to behold. "My name is Professor Ozpin. Who might you be?"

A long silence stretched out before the boy relaxed slightly, still tense in an unfamiliar environment. With Qrow out of the picture though, he seemed a lot more willing to talk.

Ozpin could understand that. If he was a runaway experiment, he would probably hate whoever tried—and succeeded in—killing him.

"Dr. Dougall called me 26."

"You do know that's a number?" Ozpin continued casually.

"It's what I've been known as. So it's my name," 26 easily replied, although he still eyed Ozpin with a sort of suspicion.

"Not a lot of people would use numbers as names," Ozpin pointed out. "If we did, we'd run out of unique names."

"But since people don't use numbers as names, I'm unique enough," 26 countered.

"True enough. So, what brought you to that forest, all beaten up and bloodied?" Ozpin asked gently. It was unknown territory he was treading here, and with a "science experiment," sentient or not, this boy had to be dangerous in some way.

The boy flinched, and Ozpin filed that reaction away.

"He told me to run, so I did. He wanted me to protect something," 26 answered vaguely.

"He?"

"Dr. Dougall."

"I see," Ozpin nodded. "What do you want to do now?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll try to find Dr. Dougall. He said he would find me after that test," 26 answered, this time his voice unsure and quieter.

Ozpin watched as 26 debated with himself.

Science experiment or not, 8 was still an age of a human child, and this boy, experiment or not, clearly showed the mind of a human child.

"I'll be honest with you, 26," Ozpin started. "People are looking for you. Dangerous people who Dr. Dougall was most likely fighting against to protect you. I don't know the whole story...but I'm sure Dr. Dougall would prefer you safe rather than go on a mission to find him all by your lonesome."

"So he was right..." 26 muttered under his breath. "The White Ones are bad guys..."

"I'm willing to make a proposal."

"Proposal?"

"An offer, if you will," Ozpin clarified. "I will help you hide from your enemies until you can fend for yourself, on one condition."

26 waited for it.

"You attend Beacon Academy once you're of age."

"I refuse," 26 scowled.

Ozpin was not surprised at the rejection, but he was surprised at how quickly it came. "Would you be willing to tell me why?"

"I know I'm young. But I'm not stupid. I probably died many times from the time I ran away at the orders of who I saw as my father figure, to the time that...that man that was with you earlier, cut me down. I can't die. And when I can't die, I have nothing to fear from the White Ones," 26 deduced. However, it felt like he was convincing himself. "Plus, I don't want anything to do with that...that man."

"But you do have something to fear. When Qrow was here earlier, you seemed to recoil in fear. Indeed, you may not fear death because it will never embrace you. But will you fear pain? Fear boredom? Fear freedom?" Ozpin questioned. At the confused expression on 26's face, he pounced. "You don't even know what boredom or freedom is. Do you not want to experience that for yourself? If you go back to your enemies, you'll never have the chance."

"I don't know..."

"And Qrow doesn't work here at Beacon Academy. I can arrange it in a way that he is never within your vicinity," Ozpin urged.

The boy curled into a ball.

"I don't know."

Ozpin felt slightly guilty. Did he push the boy too fast?

Either way, the conversation was clearly over unless he wanted to cause damage to this budding trust.

"I'll let you think about it," he said, leaving 26 curled in the corner of the room.

These things took time.

* * *

Victoria Irving was a second year at Beacon Academy. Her mother died when she was a baby, and her father worked as a weapons tinkerer down in Vale. She had an older brother who was working as a weapons specialist in Atlas, and her family life was fairly normal. There was no strained relationship, no issues whatsoever in her life.

For any other child of Remnant, where no family members were Huntsmen or Huntresses, she probably would've lived the rest of her life as an ignorant and weak civilian. That was not the case.

When she was ten, she saw how cruelly faunus were treated. She didn't understand why the humans with the cute animal ears were abused the way they were. Were some adults just so stupid that they thought faunus were animals? When she was twelve and stood up for a faunus child, it was then she realized they weren't stupid. She was.

To impose a view upon someone, but have no power to back it up, was the height of naivety. From then on, she begged her father to let her go to Signal. She worked hard to gain the strength she has nowadays. She stood up for faunus whenever she could, whether it was on campus or outside of school.

On some days, the abuse was so bad that she ran out of aura and would gain bruises or scratches if she got too careless or hot-tempered. On other days, she would be out there supporting a White Fang rally, and when peaceful slogans turned into thrown rocks and broken beer bottles, she shielded the faunus children who were near the front. By the time she came back to Beacon to her team, she would be black and blue.

She made it a habit to visit the infirmary so her friends thought she was training instead of being a peaceful activist for an oppressed population.

They probably wouldn't mind but...

She could risk antagonizing her team. She loved them too much. If the school scorned her, sure. But if her team were to look upon her like dirt on the ground for supporting faunus...she didn't think she could handle it.

Inwardly, she guessed she was still weak. If she couldn't state her mind to the people close to her...oh. She was a coward. On some days, she mused that she was still that weak ten-year-old girl who got slapped back-talking to a toxic customer...couldn't speak her mind, couldn't change other people's minds.

But that was neither here nor there.

One particular day, after a vicious rally turned violent, she was searching for bandage rolls in the nurse's office, but found a young boy instead.

It seemed that he recently took a shower, but he still reeked of blood and forest floors. A hint of ashes laid under the heavy metallic and natural leafy scents.

"Howdy there," she spoke up, and the boy jolted in surprise.

"Oh. H-hello," he replied.

"Would you happen to know where the bandages are?" she asked. She knew, but for the sake of conversation, she pretended she didn't. She was curious, and needed an excuse to talk.

"Right there," he said, pointing to a cabinet she was well-acquainted with.

"Much thanks," she replied. "My name's Victoria Irving, second year student. Aren't you a little bit young to be here?"

"Professor Ozpin and Qrow brought me here," the boy shrugged. "What about you? Did you get hurt or something?"

Victoria showed her bleeding scratches.

"Aren't they supposed to heal up real quick?" the boy asked.

"It is if I have any aura left," Victoria shrugged, copying the boy's earlier gesture nonchalantly.

"But you do," the boy pointed out. "I can see it."

"You can...see aura?" Victoria gaped.

"Yep. Yours is a nice, green color. Reminds me of the forest..."

"O-oh. Well, anyways, to answer your question, I can only use my aura to a certain extent. If I use it all, I don't think I can live very long," Victoria answered, recomposing herself as she wrapped her wounds.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

The boy watched as she dressed her injuries, and she hummed lightly as she did. It was a nice sort of camaraderie, almost as if she was with her teammates, sharpening weapons or winding down after a big mission battle.

"Say...what do you think about faunus?" she asked.

"Faunus? What are those?" the boy asked back.

She was surprised. He didn't know what faunus was? "They're...people...except they have animal features like ears, or claws, or tails."

"So they look like us?"

"Yeah. They look exactly like us, but with animal features."

"Well...I never met them, so I wouldn't know. I would probably like to meet a faunus though," the boy commented with no big fanfare. "They look like me, but they're different. I could ask them all sorts of questions."

Victoria smiled. "Yeah. You could."

If a boy half her age could see that faunus were nothing to sneer at, then she would be proud of her point of view. She was going to tell her team tonight.

They were family. They would understand, right?

* * *

 **A/N: So originally this was going to be around 2,000 words too, like every other chapter, but then my brain was like fuck-the-plot, and then ran with it. Freestyle. 2,500+ words. Whoo! Ignore Victoria there. She's not very important.**

 **Also, I know it must seem like I update everyday. I don't...not really. I update when I still have time away from my classes, or when I still have interest in a story, haha. This one I'm invested in though.**


	6. The Start of Something New

**Warning: Profanity and...uhh. Qrow. At this point, whenever there's a warning tag, always assume Qrow.**

* * *

Three months.

Professor Ozpin gave 26 three months to decide.

In those three months, 26 thinks he accomplished a lot of things. He learned a lot more vocabulary, for one. (Faunus was one of those vocabulary words.) He talked with the people coming in and out of the infirmary, one of them being the school nurse, which was not surprising. Sometimes, he walked around campus, a...freedom...he never had back in the White Ones facility. It was refreshing. New. Curiosity-inducing.

The food was new as well. It wasn't mash or goo, it wasn't vegetables like canned corn or peas—although those were cafeteria options as well—but food like steak, hamburgers, fries, milkshakes, oranges and pineapples—

It still didn't fill him up like aura did, but it most certainly filled him up more than the food back at the facility. He found that he particularly enjoyed the more sugary foods, like pancakes. Those filled him up the most.

The flowers in the courtyard were something he had only seen in books. The trees he climbed back in the forest was nothing compared to scaling the buildings. And scaling the buildings were easy, as long as you didn't get caught by the disgruntled staff. The people he talked to were so much more lively, so much more diverse than the White Ones. Or really, he should call them scientists, now. In those three months, he learned so much more than he had in the past eight years.

And he was addicted.

The one obstacle he had to cross was the man named "Qrow." How interesting that the man's name was a symbol of death, and he brought death upon 26 like no one else before.

If being at Beacon meant being in loose association with the man, 26 refused. Adamantly.

The rumors about Qrow that got him more curious than anything though.

"He's so mysterious! I remember when he taught my class a few months back in Signal. He came, he went, gone like the wind!"

"I heard he works solo. Must be lonely on missions."

"Yeah, but he gets to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants! No teammates like mine to harp over me about what I should get done..."

"Didn't his team pretty much split apart? Must be hard for someone like him."

It seemed like the man was the center of all the attention. He was wandering the school grounds, not unlike a teacher, but not a teacher. He would hold impromptu sparring matches in the courtyard with some ridiculous challenge or another, and every student found it fun to be in the presence of the man.

The longer Qrow was at Beacon, the louder the gossips were, the more 26 learned about his apparent murderer. He wished they would just shut up—and didn't that just shock him? He never acted so mean in front of Dr. Dougall—but he kept his silence, and day by day, he learned that Qrow was a Huntsman that mostly kept to himself.

He was a type of person that kept his head down, but stood his ground when told to. He liked to roam free, and people rarely saw him.

He wasn't a murderer.

A murderer didn't teach children.

A murderer didn't bring the child they killed to a safe haven.

A murderer didn't have friends who would offer said child a boon of protection.

26 learned what was truth, and what was speculation.

And slowly, 26 learned about Qrow.

One particular day, 26 overheard Ozpin about how Qrow thought 26 was a Grimm. 26 was sure Ozpin knew 26 was eavesdropping but...well.

That man was one hell of a cunning person, but 26 knew the spoken words to be true. Qrow had been with Ozpin, and didn't deny it. Crude as the man was, he didn't seem like a liar.

Faintly, 26 wondered if this was the kind of person he wanted to be. Someone who could go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with a reasonable set of morals to uphold his ground. He would quickly dismiss the idea though, disgusted with being anything akin to his probably-accidental killer.

He didn't hate Qrow anymore, but 26 wasn't sure 'dislike' was such a good upgrade in opinion.

Still, he didn't _hate_ Qrow, so he was willing to hear about the man every so often. Information about Qrow was interesting, to say the least.

Regardless, his recent less-hostile thoughts to his once-aggressor wasn't enough to convince him that studying at Beacon was the best choice. The day-to-day life of a huntsman in training kind of bored him. What stopped him from going out of this city, going out of the kingdom, and just hide? In the three months, 26 agreed with Ozpin that he would never want to go back to the facility, not even if he was fearless of what they would do. Yet, in those three months, he also learned that not all choices were presented to him on a silver platter.

He could run away again, on his own terms this time. No one to dictate where to go, when to go. (He clutched the Scroll Chip in his grasp tightly, glad he hadn't lost it. Glad he had it long enough to tie it to a chain, and put around his neck.)

He could hide as a normal person, see more of the world. Wouldn't that be a treat? Beacon Academy was certainly big, and after three months, 26 knew there were still places unexplored. For some reason, security wouldn't let him go down to the basements. Shame.

If Beacon Academy had so much to offer, and so much more to hide, he wondered what was beyond the Academy.

There was a green forest that looked brighter than the one he came from, so much more vibrant and cheerful. Some students told him that a red forest laid further ahead, and he wished he could go see it. Waterfalls spouted from the front entrance of the academy, and he wished he could swim in them. The teachers were all stingy and thought he should stay away from everything "dangerous." Pah.

He wasn't in danger. He never could be.

He remembered clutching a nearly-impossible to break ball, and breaking it to the point of breaking his own hand. Red spilled out, only to reveal perfectly healthy skin.

He could still recall the way Qrow's weapon had separated his organs and his body, and yet, here he stood today, with nothing more but a pink line across his torso to show for the worst of it.

He was a blank slate, and the world was his oyster.

With those thoughts, he knew he had to reject Ozpin's offer. Protection or not, he didn't want to chain himself down, and that's what the condition for protection entailed—chaining himself down and preventing him from experiencing the utmost joy of _freedom._ Of **_life._**

There was no doubt about what he was going to do, and he would tell Ozpin his choice, no matter how difficult it was.

26 was smart. He knew he couldn't run forever...and if he didn't want to be enslaved—because reading books about faunus rights meant knowing what it was to be treated _human_ , and he was indeed a human—he would have to hide. Hiding at Beacon was not something he wanted to do for the rest of his life. So if it meant exploring the world but end up being captured...

Well, he would just have to make the most of his time.

But in all honesty, all of the above was only half the reason he couldn't bear to stay at Beacon.

In their very first conversation, 26 noted how Ozpin subtly stated that "26" was not a suitable name for someone hiding from the Scientists. No doubt if someone had taken up that name and it ended up on records, he would be chased down and subdued faster than the forest fire Dr. Dougall had set.

Still, he wasn't willing to give up his name, and indeed, it was a name, not a number.

His designation was "S00-26." The scientists called him "zero-zero-two-six." Dr. Dougall called him "Twenty-Six."

It was spoken not like a success in a line of scientific failures, but spoken as a Name. So 26 would treat it like a name. He didn't need someone to address him with a title that had history, meaning, or context. He was content with what he had...

And if hiding meant to strip that part of him away...

Well. He refused.

It was childish, he knew. For the sake of survival, for the sake of listening to Dr. Dougall and stay away from the Scientists, he had to do what was smart. But for once, he didn't want to be smart or logical.

"So what have you decided?" Ozpin asked patiently.

"I..." 26 wets his lips. He had everything he wanted to say planned out, but the minute he wanted to implement his plans, it seemed to fall apart like wet tissue paper. It was so easy in theory.

He took a deep breath, and tried again.

"I don't want to stay at Beacon," he started. "I know...that there are Scientists chasing after me and they won't stop until I'm back with them. I'm their precious 'experiment' after all. But you're right about freedom and...and everything. I don't want to go back, and if I don't want to go back to the facility, I would have to continue running...except I don't want to do that either. The time I spent in that forest was horrible and I don't want to remember it."

Ozpin watched as 26's fists clenched and unclenched. The Professor noted how 26's nails seem to lengthen and shorten, as if unsheathing claws. Curious.

26 took another deep breath to continue. "If I don't want to run, that would mean staying at Beacon. But...staying at Beacon means hiding."

26 stared directly into Ozpin's eyes.

"I want to see more about the world. There's still so much that I don't know...if I stay at Beacon..."

Ozpin sighed, "then you wouldn't gain the experiences you yearn for."

26 nodded silently. He would've said more, because there were a thousand other reasons he didn't want to stay at Beacon, but it seemed that Ozpin understood.

Before 26 could tell Ozpin what he planned to do, Ozpin spoke first, tapping his chin in deep thought.

"Well, there is one...other option I can offer you."

26 blinked.

* * *

"What? No. Ozpin, no way," Qrow denied, crossing his arms in a dramatic "x" formation.

"You're the only one available," Ozpin appealed. "Taiyang and Summer both have a child on the way, and Glynda barely began working here. I can't just send her back out again."

Qrow crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well I just got rid of the kid, you can't expect me to take 'im back with me again," Qrow huffed with the same tone.

"Qrow, that kid is smart. Despite the fact that you killed him once," Ozpin plowed on even though Qrow flinched, "he's grown accepting of the fact that it was probably an accident. When I offered for you to take him under your wing, he barely hesitated before agreeing. He wouldn't be much of a burden to your missions."

"That's not the point, Oz," Qrow sighed. When he first struck 26, he didn't feel much conflict because it was his first time striking anyone remotely human, experiment or not be damned. He was in shock. In disbelief. Knowing that the kid was afraid of him was the final blow in making him feel just a bit of remorse...which is why he couldn't for the life of him, subject the kid to the wandering huntsman life.

"I can't care for a kid. For fuck's sake, I'm barely in my mid-twenties! I've been an uncle for three years. That's not enough qualification to bring a child into a battlefield, tag-along or not."

Ozpin smiled.

As much as Qrow hated to admit it, he was a good man. He just didn't know where to look for the good parts, while the bad parts seemed to blare out like a radio tower.

"It's the only way to give the child a chance to grow. I'm afraid any other option would only stunt his growth and water down his passion for life. He's been locked in a room for eight years already...let's not give him a bigger cage in Beacon and wash our hands of the matter," Ozpin said.

Qrow frowned.

Ozpin knew how to push his buttons. He knew how it felt to be trapped. He wouldn't wish it on anyone.

"Just give it a chance Qrow. I'm not asking much. Maybe a few months and you can bring him back to Beacon every once in a while," Ozpin continued. "Plus, it's not like you can get the kid killed."

"Was that a joke? Watching his guts spill out once was once too many for me," Qrow growled.

Ozpin laughed it off.

"Now, now. You know I didn't mean anything by it."

The two men sat in the office in quiet contemplation.

The gears of the tower turned with creaks and groans.

Qrow sighed.

When he became a Huntsman, this wasn't what he expected.

His semblance he could deal with.

A split team, a missing sister, and caring for a kid who he killed just three months prior...

Not part of the to-do list.

He could already feel gray hairs streaking through his scalp.

Knowing his niece, it wouldn't be long before that rambunctious blonde brat calls him an old man.

And then Summer was most likely going to give him a niece by extension...

Awh. What's one more brat into the mix?

"Fine. I'll do it."

"Great. 26? You can come out now," Ozpin smiled smugly.

"Wait what?!"

26 crawled out from under the coffee table, and Qrow sputtered indignantly at Ozpin.

"Now, now Qrow, 26 only wanted to confirm that it was a good arrangement, and this was the best way to prove it."

Looking back at the kid awkwardly rubbing his arms while trying to avoid eye contact, Qrow could only sigh.

If they were going to travel together, it was going to be the most awkward trip ever.

He was regretting the decision already.

* * *

 **A/N: Sometimes I wonder if I keep them in character.**

 **Then I realize it's at least fifteen years before canon, and I laugh.**

 **Imagine, Ozpin has only been Headmaster for a year. Qrow started being a general thug-for-hire two years ago. And Glynda was probably a teacher's assistant a few months back.**


	7. Baby Steps

**Warning: Qrow trying to be a dad. Cause that's just a disaster.**

* * *

"What are we doing here?" 26 asked, yawning.

The sun was just barely peaking over the horizon, and Qrow had dragged him to the courtyard where he usually held sparring matches against the teams of Beacon Academy.

Despite his sleepiness, 26 liked to look around with interest. Patches of grass were scorched while others looked unharmed, most likely decorations the yard got from accidents in Qrow's impromptu lessons. Some of the stone pavements were cracked, and 26 doubted it was due to age. The cracks were too deliberate...too new.

"We're here to gauge your combat skills," Qrow commented offhandedly, spinning his weapon with one hand.

"Is that really necessary?"

"Kid, Ozpin said you want to come with me instead of staying at Beacon Academy. The only difference is that I'm portable, and Beacon isn't," Qrow snorted.

26 could think of a lot more differences Qrow had with Beacon, but he stayed silent on that end. Instead, he sighed.

"Couldn't we have done this in a few more hours?"

As fine as he was without sleep, he liked the nice beds. They were much more softer than he was used to.

Much warmer too.

"Of course. But then all the students would be watching too, and the more quiet we keep about you, the safest it is for you," Qrow answered. "Right now, I don't know if you can take care of yourself. If you're coming with me, you should know it probably won't be very different from the time you spent in the forest with the Grimm, before I found you. I'll protect you, but you should still know how to protect yourself."

26 nodded.

That sounded logical enough.

26, above all else, liked to think he was logical.

"Now, usually, a Huntsman would test someone's strength and speed through various forms of specialized combat, but you have no fighting experience at all," Qrow stated, suppressing a smirk. "We'll start simple with lesson number zero."

26 eyed Qrow suspiciously when the smirk couldn't help itself, and surfaced onto Qrow's face.

"What's lesson number zero?" 26 asked tentatively.

As if it wasn't impossible, the smirk grew larger.

"Dodge."

* * *

The students of Beacon were not morning people.

Sure, once in a while you would get one of those healthy nuts or eccentric loonies who would rise from their beds at the crack of dawn, but about 90% of the student body population would wake no later than eleven, just before noon, if given the chance.

But Beacon Academy was very much an Academy, and required students to shed their lazy cocoons of quilts around seven, so that they could get enough time to prepare for class at eight.

On that particular day, students regret not getting up earlier, because Huntsman Qrow was putting on quite a show.

Glynda Goodwitch, despite being a new teacher, was quite a strict one. Tardiness due to the fact that they wanted to linger around to be entertained? That would not go well as an excuse.

Some students thought Qrow was a clever bastard who was doing it on purpose to avoid an audience.

Some students sacrificed their breakfast time to watch though, and what an interesting show it was.

Oh. What was this particular show, you ask?

Well.

It seemed that Mr. Branwen decided to teach and apprentice an eight year-old boy.

Now, while Qrow Branwen had plenty of gossip going on about him, the mysterious boy that slept in the infirmary was thought to be a false rumor. Victoria Irving knew otherwise, but she wasn't much for gossiping, and despite meeting the boy, she didn't confirm any speculations. It would be rude of her, and quite uncomfortable for the boy should some of the more intrusive Huntresses-in-training decided to go stalk the poor thing.

But we're getting off-topic.

At around 7:55 a.m. in Beacon Academy courtyard, the fact that Qrow had an apprentice spread like wildfire.

After all, why would a renown Huntsman like him teaching someone who wasn't even attending the Academy? Sure, the kid was dodging bullets like crazy, and despite being somewhat slow, he was at least not getting hit, but he was nothing special. Qrow, upon teaching this kid, very much just claimed the boy under his wing.

"They're all...staring," 26 panted.

"They're heading to class. Won't be staring for long," Qrow shrugged.

"We've been at this for hours. Can we...stop now...?" 26 asked. At the very beginning, he got hit with each and every bullet fired. For hours, he wondered how he could dodge anything he couldn't even see. Eventually, he stared at where Qrow aimed, and moved away from the direction of the aim.

Of course, when Qrow realized the tactic, he feinted pulling the trigger sometimes, and immediately switch aim.

That made 26 frustrated, and he was getting hit with bullets again. His shirt was littered with holes and dried bits of blood, but the dark clothing hid what would be an unusual sight. From the calm way that the Beacon students observed, 26 knew that they thought he had aura.

But by the second round, he was moving faster than before, and the bullets were little more than annoyances. 26 supposed it really did look like he had aura. They hurt like hell, don't mistake him, but it didn't hurt as much as Qrow's blade. His accelerated healing always closed up the wounds before he could feel much pain anyway.

They were practicing for about three hours before the students of Beacon came out to witness the scene of 26 barely dodging those pesky metal pellets, and another ten minutes before 26 asked for a break.

"Stop? Already? Boy, you sure are weak," Qrow snorted. Still, he lowered his weapon, letting the tip of the blade crack into the cement of the courtyard, the sound echoing in the empty courtyard.

A few birds took flight from the trees.

26 eyed the weapon with a critical eye. Now he knew where the cracks in the stone structures came from.

"We'll need to bring up your stamina and speed. Your strength however..." Qrow picked up one of the bullets he shot.

The whole end was tapered into a flat, crushed lump.

"Is just fine..."

26 stared at the piece of metal Qrow was holding up.

"Sorry," he panted out.

Qrow looked surprised, "sorry? What for?"

"Destroying that bullet. You could've reused it, right?" 26 asked.

"This? Ha. Nah," Qrow flicked the wrecked bullet over his shoulder. "I buy these things by the bulk but I never use 'em much in battle. It's fine, kid."

"If you never use them much, why buy them at all?"

"It's more of a convenience thing than anything. It's pretty much unspoken that everyone's weapon should have a long-range specialization just in case there's any enemy your combat specialization can't handle," Qrow answered expertly.

"Would I get a weapon?"

"Before any good Huntsman learns how to attack, he first must learn to dodge. We'll probably repeat this lesson a few more times before I even think about getting you a weapon," Qrow smiled deviously.

26 shivered at the evil expression.

Qrow, in reality, was already thinking about the choices 26 might have in terms of weaponry. With super strength like that, it was hard to find one that wouldn't over-encumber his speed. He was slow enough as it is.

"You mentioned something earlier..." 26 hummed. His panting had lessened dramatically. Qrow marveled at the recovery speed. "Combat specialization. What is it?"

"Curious huh?" Qrow grinned. "You'll learn eventually. For now...take a shower. We're heading out immediately after."

"Heading out?" 26 repeated.

"I've been stuck in Vale for three months. I got things to do, kiddo...and if you're going to stick with me, that means you got to do those very same things with me," Qrow answered wryly. "Plus, we gotta get you some better clothes, and maybe some hair dye..."

"What's hair dye?"

* * *

The kid was pretty unusual, Qrow had mused.

His strength was abnormally above average, and if he challenged the kid to an arm-wrestling contest, it would possibly be a stalemate. However, the kid was slow, so much slower than trainee-kids his age. On the other hand, the kid learned faster than any normal human, and his body grew faster after that intense training session. He supposed it was to balance out the fact that the kid had absolutely no aura, whatsoever.

And he checked, many times.

Throughout the whole session, he watched without flinching—and wasn't that a challenge?—how his shots would open up holes in the kid's arms and legs. Even in the gravest of dangers, like when one of his bullets accidentally lodged into the kid's lungs, or even after receiving shots that were more painful than others, like that one shot that hit the kid's knee, the kid's aura didn't even kick in.

Usually, people without their aura unlocked were designated as civilians. However, this boy didn't even have aura at all, locked or unlocked.

That would mean the abnormal strength, the increased rate of growth, and the accelerated healing was all from the experiments.

Qrow admitted that even without aura and a semblance, the kid would grow to be quite a terror.

Now it was up to him that the kid reached adulthood.

That meant choosing a hair dye.

"Blond looks quite handsome on you, doesn't it?" Qrow grinned.

"Define handsome," 26 questioned, seriously confused. His once-black hair was now a orange-yellow tinge, and while not the best color to complement his red eyes, it most certainly did the job of changing how he looked completely.

Qrow pushed back the faint thought on how much 26 looked like an older, male version of Yang when she would get angry.

Boy, could that three-year-old niece of his could throw a tantrum.

Luckily, it seemed that while 26 did look like his niece, he didn't have her horrible temper. Instead, he was more for curiously inspecting himself in the mirror, turning his head this way and that way for a better look.

26 couldn't even recognize himself. The Scientists most certainly wouldn't recognize him now.

"Don't worry kid. Once you know how to defend yourself, you can get your silky black locks again," Qrow chuckled.

26 huffed. He wasn't worried about his looks. He was just fascinated how one small change in color could make a person so different from what they looked like before.

"Let's get going. We need to get to get out of Vale by nightfall. I have a lot of work to catch up on."

So they bid Ozpin farewell, and exited civilization once more.

26 was equally fearful and excited of what laid ahead.

Qrow could only hope this long-term babysitting mission wasn't one that he failed at.

* * *

 **A/N: A little shorter than the others, but I think a I did an okay job. Next, we do character development for both Qrow and 26, and world-building.**

 **I know that I don't ask for reviews, but they're still appreciated. Would you guys like to see anything in particular? How would you like 26 to develop? What personality traits do you want him to have? Like 26 discovered in the previous chapter, "he's a blank slate, and the world's his oyster."**


	8. Maregrove Mysteries

The first day of their trip was full of walking.

Back in the facility, 26 was assigned a room that he never left. Dr. Dougall visited occasionally, but it was always the same chrome-colored walls. To be able to roam freely like back in Beacon, except continuously see new sights—it was nice.

On the second day, Qrow woke him up early in the morning to continue his defense lessons. While 26 still practiced dodging, it was no longer the evasion of bullets. Now, Qrow had him try to dodge while in close combat.

26 had wondered why he would dodge in close combat if he could just have something to defend with—

"Kid, never use a weapon to defend unless you know you can take a hit. Why take a hit when you can dodge?"

26 had to admit it was sound logic, if a bit outlandish. He still felt a bit iffy about the lesson.

On one hand, it was much less threatening than bullets, but it was no less painful. On the other hand, dodging in close combat might as well be harder than dodging bullets.

"That's just your mind playing tricks on you," Qrow had said. "If I were to shoot a few bullets at your right now, you'll find dodging in close combat easier. In truth, both are equally hard."

Luckily for 26, Qrow never pulled a trigger that day because he wanted to avoid confrontation with any Grimm. As they were still near a kingdom, the number of Grimm were considerably less than what they would no doubt encounter later on, once they reached a fair distance away.

And encounter Grimm they did, on the afternoon of the third day.

Qrow had shot the beast point-blank in the face without even engaging in a fight to weaken it. Needless to say, 26 was impressed.

During the nights, Qrow would tell 26 where to find wood to start a fire. 26 would come back to their agreed campsite, arms laden with fuel for warmth, and Qrow would already be there with a hunted game animal for their meal.

In the mornings, they would have a lesson in combat—or rather, defensive non-combat really—followed by breakfast and a ten minute break before they set off again.

It was a week before they reached Maregrove.

"This place..." 26 trailed off.

"You recognize it? I picked you up from the forest, just over there," Qrow smirked, pointing to the forest in the horizon as if mentioning a pet shop.

"No," 26 shook his head. "It just looks slightly familiar. I wasn't sure...never approached the place."

Suddenly, he had a thought.

"If it takes a week to get from Vale to...here, wherever we are, does that mean I take a week to revive?" 26 asked, slightly alarmed. If he was unconscious for that long, it was no doubt that he would be easily incapacitated and taken back to the facility. He would have to minimize his possibility for death...

"As if I was going to carry you all the way to Vale," Qrow scoffed. "You were only unconscious for 24 hours really. Took you back with a Bullhead."

"Why didn't we take a Bullhead back?"

"We usually only call a Bullhead if we're returning to the city. When we leave it, we do it by foot," Qrow answered. "If one day I'm dying in a ditch somewhere, I expect a quick ride. If that ride's not here, at least I know that it's not sending some asshat to a mission site because he was too lazy to walk. Common courtesy."

26 thought about it silently as they approached the village. By the time he had dissected the meaning of "common courtesy," 26 was too busy observing his surroundings once more in childlike wonder. The path they treaded on was adjacent to a ranch, a field of tall, rolling grass, and a vibrant red barn. The fences were made of wood, splintering from peeling paint, and contained within were horses of the most majestic statures. He couldn't help but gawk.

The walk to the inn was a silent one, but Qrow could hear the excitement in the kid's thoughts.

Okay, you can't hear a person's thoughts unless you had telepathy, but Qrow could just tell.

The kid was an open book.

By the time they reached the inn, 26 was just about ready to find a bed and dream about all the wonderful things he's seen today.

Qrow had other plans.

"Hey there," he greeted the innkeeper.

"Oh, you're here again," the innkeeper smiled. "I do apologize about the unsightly display a few months back. It was so unprofessional of me."

"No sweat," Qrow waved away. "I hope there are no more disappearances?"

"Nope! Whatever it was you did, there aren't even any Grimm in there anymore!" the innkeeper chirped.

"No more Grimm?"

"Yes. It seems that they just...simply left," the innkeeper shrugged. "All for the better I say. Some of our men cleared the forest line to make a little playground for the kids. It's been delightful."

"Maybe I should check the forest once more..." Qrow mused under his breath. "Anyways, I originally came for information regarding Stallionade."

"I'll answer what I can," the innkeeper said.

"Tell me everything."

"Oh, okay. Well, Stallionade is our brother-town, 5 leagues west from here. I'd say it's about a two-day journey by foot. Unlike us, they don't farm horses, but they do farm. We often buy our grains and veggies from them. They may seem like an ordinary town, but I do believe lately they've been growing into a city," the innkeeper recalled, washing a plate as she did.

"When did it start growing?"

"Oh...two years back. A wealthy merchant with some cargo airships decided to retire there, and conduct business while steady. It's been treating us mighty well."

"And have there been any...bad rumors?"

The innkeeper froze, and quickly wipes her hands dry before leaning over the counter like a naughty schoolchild sharing a cheat sheet for the teacher's next big exam. "Whatever you do, don't tell that I told you this...but there have been little gossips here and there about an illegal weapons trade. Some horses were killed a while back, and farmer Sou was very much distraught. Some visitors played it off as fright—horses do have faint hearts sometimes. But there was a bit too much blood for a simple heart attack. Still, I can't be sure..."

"No, thank you. That's very helpful information," Qrow smiled. "I think I'll rent out a room tonight please."

He leaned back from the counter, and the innkeeper too, straightened her back.

"Oh, of course. That'll be 150 Lien," she smiled.

It was like the conversation never happened.

26 watched curiously.

* * *

Qrow had left 26 in the inn immediately after paying.

26 didn't mind. He had jumped onto the bed—and while it wasn't as comfy as the one back at Beacon, it was still better than anything else he had slept on before—and taken a nice nap. He wondered what it would feel like to be near a horse?

When 26 woke up, it was near evening. Qrow was on the other bed, polishing his blade. A tray of steaming food was placed onto the nightstand.

"You're awake. There's dinner," Qrow gestured to the plates.

26 nodded and stretched.

"So...that conversation this morning with the innkeeper..."

"Curious?" Qrow smirked.

26 nodded again.

"Isn't it legal to sell weapons?"

"If you have a license. Weapon dealers have certification, training, and an oath before taking up the job. They won't sell in bulk, they won't sell to criminals, and they may not give away weapons as a loophole to the first two conditions."

"Why not?"

"Many reasons, kiddo. Why would a weapons dealer sell in bulk?" Qrow asked in reply. There was a small silence before he answered. "Military, or criminals. Selling to military is of course, legal, but those are commissions approved by the government. Actually, even military can't buy weapons in bulk really. Government doesn't give them that right until we're at war or something. Selling to criminals, terrorists, and the like, is obviously a big no-no."

"How do you know this guy's doing it illegally?" 26 continued.

"You need a license to handle a weapon too," Qrow laughed. "Either that, or have a Huntsman vouch for you. Even combat schools don't allow their weapons to be taken off grounds. Instead, they have you build your own."

"So...building your own let's you own a weapon without a license?"

"What do you think you need to do to get a license?"

26 thought for a bit.

"Build a weapon?"

"Bingo."

"So going through combat school gives you a weapons license..." 26 deduced.

There was another silence as 26 scooted over his bed and grabbed the tray of food.

Qrow continued to polish his blade.

The soft clicks of metal, and the soothing singing of the metal edge filled the room.

"Will I be building my own weapon?"

Qrow chuckled.

"We'll see."

* * *

 **A/N: Another chapter much shorter than other chapters on average...but you guys need this chill update. It's the beginning of a new arc! What canon character do you think you'll meet next?**

 **Also, I decided to answer reviews here. 'Cause reviews are public, so replies should be public too. Especially since some give very good questions.**

 _Tabue2000: Great story so far! When do you get to the cannon story? Keep up the great work! :)_

 **I already answered them through PM, but I bet everyone's curious. But you guys should know from the previous chapter that we're fifteen years before canon since Ruby isn't even born yet. Sooo yeeeah. We ain't seeing shit till chapter 923498723—**

 _xXGabeXx: *sees reason behind project synthesisgroans* fucking Orokin, just stay dead you bastards Oh god, he's been disconnected from society for like, his entire life. XD his first crush is going to be absolutely hilarious "Qrow, what does having a crush on someone mean?...Where'd I put that flask again..."_

 **I admit, I had to Google it. But you, my good sir/madam/gender-ambiguous-person, have given me more ideas. For that, I thank you. *smiles innocently.* Also, I had to stare at the word "crush" for a few minutes before remembering "oh. Right. I tagged it as Romance. Haha DUH." I honestly don't know what the pairings are. Might put it up for vote later on.**


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